Knitting Makes Even the DMV Bearable

Man. I wish I'd discovered knitting ages ago, instead of just, well... not even a year ago did I get really into it.

Had to go to the DMV (Department of Motor Vehicles) today. I was driving all manner of illegally, and it was very bad.

So a friend of mine mega-graciously agreed to watch the boys for me and off I went, forms filled out and the Blasted Hat in a bag.

Silly me, going to the DMV on a Friday afternoon. Duh. At least the Wisconsin DMV system is pretty organized. Yeah, you might wind up waiting a while, but once your number gets called? You're out the door within 5-10 minutes. Seriously. I had to renew my license, transfer the title on the car my grandmother gave us *cough* back in January *cough* and get new license plates for said car. From the time they called my number until the time I walked out the door - 15 minutes, max. And the rest of the time it took? Entirely my fault. I really should have gone first thing in the morning like I'd bragged last night I was going to.

But so I went, Blasted Hat went with me, and all was fine. I got there, saw the crowd, went to the bathroom, came back, found a seat and set off. Am now probably a few rounds from the top. However, unfortunately, I will not be getting it done in time to send off with the hubby to GenCon today. Oh well. I guess my friend will just be getting it in the mail, then. sigh.

So far, though, it has done nothing to try to buck its fate. Which is good.

Also? There were two girls sitting in the waiting area with their dad. One was probably 8 or 9 years old, the other a year or so younger. The girls were really well behaved, and at one point I looked up and saw the older one watching me very intently. I smiled at her and she looked away. I kind of kept an eye on her, wondering if I should invite her to come over to take a closer look, but from that point on she kept her gazing on the sneak. I found myself wishing I had a pair of cheap plastic needles and some old stash yarn to give her to let her try it out herself. But alas, I did not.

Still though - a trip to the DMV, made entirely bearable by having my knitting with me. I could really get into this.

Well, more into it, I mean.

Sixth Time's the Charm?

This hat is killing me.

So I went to the Stitch-n-Bitch last night at Electric Earth Cafe.

I decided it was high time I get that blasted Jayne Cobb hat going again, so I deliberately took nothing else. I ran late, of course, but got there just as the only other woman left (others had been and gone already) was packing up her stuff. I apologized and she happily agreed to wait, so I ordered myself a medium iced mocha and a mystery biscotti (there was dried fruit and some kind of nut involved - the dude at the counter speculated apricot and pistachio, which I think was close enough). They were backed up a bit on drinks, so I went to sit down and knit for a while.

We hung out, chatted, I began casting on for my hat. Left my tail too short. I needed 60 sts, I got 55 before I ran out of tail. sigh.

Try again. This time the tail was fine, and after a moment's hesitation as I realized that somehow I'd completely forgotten how to use my circs, I figured myself out and got going. I very confidently knitted along, chatting away before my companion mentioned the word "ribbing" as she described a project she'd worked on a while before. Uh-oh. Ribbing? I looked down at my almost-two-rows of rolling stockinette and realized my mistake.

Craaaaaaaap.

Tore it out, realized I was thirsty. Went up to the counter, mentioned my drink. Dude apologized that it had been forgotten. I went back and sat down, he arrived a couple minutes later bearing my iced mocha, and said he'd made it a large to make up for having forgotten me. Nice of him, eh?

Perhaps now I should mention that I've had problems with insomnia since I was 11 years old, and so in recent years, as my body got too old to function whatsoever on less than five hours of sleep a night, I've cut caffeine out of my usual daily intake. But as I had been wearing out before I even left and Caz and I were planning to put together the new baby gate his parents had kindly gotten us once we got the kids to bed, I figured some caffeine was in order. Plus mochas are tasty.

So I started again on my hat. Cast on my 60 stitches. All was well. I connected the ends and, as I was about to begin knitting, my stitch-n-bitch pal reminded me "Now, don't forget, you're doing ribbing." I laughed and thanked her and began my ribbed hat brim.

Another woman stopped by - she was writing a paper on her laptop and sat near us as she is also a knitter and was really looking for a reason to slack on her paper. Which I can totally understand. I slacked on practically every paper I've been assigned in my entire life. I liked her from the start. So we all chatted knitting, discussed how exactly the two-socks-on-double-circs thing works and how it manages to work without tearing massive holes in the space-time continuum (as Caz insists it must, and he's only seen it performed on one sock - I think if he saw it happening on two socks his head would explode).

Really, it was a marvelously good time. And I happily sucked down my entire large iced mocha, never mind that my no-longer-used-to-caffeine-or-coffee stomach hadn't had any visitors since lunchtime. I had a biscotti, surely that would suffice!

An hour and a half after my arrival, I left having had some great conversation, with a whopping one-and-a-half completed rows of 2x2 ribbing and a gut full of coffee-rot. sigh.


This afternoon, I should note, I put in some more work on the Blasted Hat while the kids napped. So far so good. And I've decided. If somehow it thwarts me this time, and thwarts me one more time, thus breaking any remote hint of magic the number seven might hold for this cussed thing, I will simply wad it up into a ball of tangled horror and send it on to my friend like that.

Along with the remaining last tatters of my sanity.

Mocked by the Gauge Gods

So, I've been trying to make up a Jayne Cobb hat for a friend of mine (though she doesn't know it yet). The thing is, I'm poor, so I decided to use KnitPicks Wool of the Andes in Tomato, Carrot and Daffodil. But the gauge was all wrong - the pattern is for bulky, I was using worsted.

So... I guessed. Wrong.

So I frogged.

I guessed again. Wrong.

I frogged again.

This time, I decided to try to follow the pattern. I would double up my worsted yarn, and see where that got me. Except the pattern calls for US10.5 needles, and I don't have dpns in that size. But I do have US11s.

So I cast on fewer stitches to make up for the larger needles. Actually finished the hat portion, too, before I finally accepted that no, it was too small.

sigh.

So, I frogged again. Now, I have written down all the changes I think I need to make (because of course, while I had the stupid thing knitted up this last time, did I actually measure to see what gauge I was coming up with? HA! Why would I do such a nutty thing? For shame.), and so am now just getting up the nerve to try again.

Did I mention that I'm kind of hoping to have this hat done so I can send it along with a friend to give to the ultimate recipient at GenCon this coming weekend?

At least it's bulky and just a hat, so should only take so long.

As a result, of course, my socks have languished. I wonder why I've been so concerned about Second Sock Syndrome when really, I can't even seem to finish the first sock of a pair.

Also, the gift-giving season is soon to be upon us, and well... man, I've got a lot of knitting to do. Not to mention knitting up Christmas stockings and winter hats for the kids.

Oh, and I think I'm going to just be giving up on finding them baby shoes that don't suck, and instead knitting my own from this slipper-boot pattern by Ann Norling. My LYS has little leather soles to attach to things such as these, so I figure something like that would at least get them through until there's snow on the ground.

Of course, this is Wisconsin. We could have snow on the ground by Columbus Day. But still. Considering the children are huge and have giant feet, it's been really difficult finding shoes for them that will accommodate Ben's "bread feet" and his continued propensity to curl his feet like a newborn. And man, I looked at kid's shoes the other day. I swear, the shoes out there for little toddler boys? Manlier than my husband's shoes. By a lot. Since heaven forbid anyone mistake them for being girls (snort!), apparently I'm expected to dress them up in freakin' lumberjack boots.

One, I expect to raise my children much more Screaming Greenie than to wind up with careers in the logging industry, unless they're part of some sustainable harvesting outfit. Two, if they do somehow embark on logging careers before the age of 2, they better hide their paychecks from me very carefully or I'm going to start making them buy their own Cheerios.

Wuv, twoo wuv....

I'm in love. Deeply, truly, surprisingly in love.

When I got the big bug up my backside to start this squirrelly thing, I decided to check out a few other blogs out there.

I've been perusing a few blogs for a while now, but it was only when I decided to start this that I really started checking things out. I blame Mamacate for being my gateway blogger. I found her through a mom-of-twins group and she mentioned knitting and I went, "Ah-ha! A knitter with twins! Perfect!" And indeed it has been. I've enjoyed reading her blog immensely, and cannot deny the freaky parallels which seem to exist. Not only did she also name one of her twins Henry, but I have seen photos of her at a Sheep & Wool Festival wearing, I kid you not, Chucks. I'm almost certain that's what they were. Despite the fuzziness of the picture and the fact that we're talking just a very small part of the photo, I've worn Chucks for almost 16 years now and I can tell you, I know that little star on the ankle anywhere.

But, despite all this gushing, my deep and abiding love is not for Cate (sorry, lady!).

No, I've fallen head over heels for the same knit-mad maven all the knit-bloggers adore, The Yarn Harlot. To the extent that for two insomnia-laden nights in a row, I've sat up reading her archives. In fact, tonight when I started, I decided to go back and start at the beginning. Why? Not out of some completist inclination, I can assure you that. No, it was because I caught a mention of her attending a birth in one of her entries and I said, (this is a quote, mind you), "No way." So I started reading. And after reading her first two (or was it three?) months of knit-blogging, the cagey minx never did say outright what she's up to with all this birthing wackiness.

All right. Be coy if you like. I'm a woman of the 21st century. I've got Google and I know how to use it. I even, because being sleep-deprived actually seems to make me smarter though far less productive, made sure to add 'birthing' to my Googling, so as to avoid the squizillion hits I'd be sure to get from all the other knit-bloggers who've loved her longer and better than I, and all the hits regarding her most recent book and subsequent tour.

And there it is. I was right. This thing that I think I may want to do when I finally eventually grow up already? The thing I'm not talking about too much, for fear I'll self-sabotage again. That's what she does. Well, it's not all she does, but she does it. For real. I'm frankly blown away by the cosmic convergence, and well... determined that if I get any more birthday dosh, I will not squander it on silly things like bills and whatnot. Instead, I will hie me to a bookstore to pick up at least one of her books.

Or, you know, at the very least, pay that massive ransom balloon payment late fee I owe the library, so that I can check it out. Of course, then I could check out pattern books again too, so... maybe it's best if we wait on that a bit after all.

All the world's a yarn store

Good grief. Here I am, trying very hard to be good about my yarn addiction. Then Eris shows up and suddenly I'm hunting high and low online for the cheapest, nicest yarn for it I can scrounge. I had found superwash merino at WEBS which would have run me under $70 (including shipping!) for the whole thing (pretty darn impressive considering I would be making the biggest size). But then I got stumped on color. So I decided to give it a day or two to percolate, and by the time it was done percolating, I realized there was no way in hell we could spare $70 for yarn when I already have a ton stashed up as it is.

(Okay. In the world of stashes, mine is but a baby. But considering I've been at this for just about a year and have already spent a ton of money on yarn as it is... I just can't justify it now. Being responsibility totally sucks.)

So, okay. No Eris.

But then, in the past few days, it's like every time I turn around there's somebody trying to de-stash, and offering sweet deals along the way. I could just cry. And meanwhile, when I whine to Caz about all the slinky seductive temptation out there, he says, "You should do it! Happy birthday!" because my birthday is, indeed, coming up. But I've already got three books (one knitting, two non) winging my way from Amazon as birthday presents, and if I'd taken him at his word every time he says this, well... not only would we not pay this month's rent, next month's would be in jeopardy as well.

Plus, I did not realize (as this is my first summer as a true knitter) that summer is apparently when all the big yarn sales hit. I've already passed up on the big yarn sale at one LYS, and then when I happened to drive past the other and saw a big "clearance sale" sign in their window, I just pretended I hadn't seen it. But oh, make no mistake. I saw. Oh sweet woolly goodness, I saw.

So I continue to play it nice, be good, all that stuff, but man, I just don't want to. I wanna buy yarn with wild, freaky abandon and roll around in it once I get it home (or just sit and pet it like an evil mastermind pets his cat), and then do little else but knit for about a week.